


transmission coming through

by snaredrum



Category: Oxenfree
Genre: i love the sunken so much, other characters mentioned but don't really show up, oxenfree plot summary feat. italics basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 14:37:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12061023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snaredrum/pseuds/snaredrum
Summary: Is. Leave. Possible?We asked this last time. Next time. Did ask. Will ask. The girl was different then; our purpose was not. Is not. Never will be.





	transmission coming through

**Author's Note:**

> heya, this is my first fanfic. i actually wrote it in my college writing class for the prompt "rewrite a story from another character's point of view." figured i might as well post it here.

Is. Leave. Possible?

We asked this last time.  _ Next time. Did ask. Will ask.  _ The girl was different then; our purpose was not. Is not. Never will be. 

The manipulation is easy, we say to ourselves.  _ He says to her, she says to him, they say to me.  _ All we need is a point of entry, a door to enter through, which Alex -  _ Anna? no, Anna then, Alex now _ \- so graciously supplied. 

The radio waves shine through to us like beams of light through a rotten wood roof, piercing the cold and the dark. We squeeze through them and latch onto whatever footholds we can find - the landscape, or little bits of reality we have managed to carve out, or radio itself.

Once successfully through, even to this, the smallest degree, we can begin. _Did begin. Have begun._ The children are split up, which owes more to the radio than us, bringing them to where transmissions are the strongest. _Were the strongest. Could be the strongest._ The more Alex uses the radio the more we can shine through. Loops start manifesting, ones that only she can see. Subconsciously ( _she says he says we say, as if the subconscious means anything to us anymore_ ) we bring in pieces of her past. A soccer ball, a tent, a campfire: memories of her poor dead brother, _who_ _drowned who died like us who was lost at sea WHO DIED LIKE US_ \- 

_ Don’t get out of hand just yet _ , we say to each other.  _ We still have a ways to go _ . 

Soon enough we are able to claim footholds in her friends. The best friend, the quiet girl, the brother -  _ the one who died? No, time does not work like that here _ . We rack our collective brains for the solution; out of all of us, someone eventually remembers step-siblings. Ah, yes. The best friend, the quiet girl, the step-brother. But the last child shows the most promise. The red-headed girl, who shares a past with Alex. A dangerous past, a painful past. Echoes of the same dead boy reverberate along her timeline as well. Clarissa is her name.  _ Clarissa _ . We toss her name amongst ourselves like the balls some of us played with in our far away ( _ nonexistent? no, just far away _ ) youths. Yes, Clarissa will do well. 

But first, a game.  _ He she they I we _ enjoy games. Something basic and universally appealing. Something we could cling to when we began to realize the scope of our predicament, something to pass the time with when we began to realize that  _ time _ might be forever. We try to get Alex and her step-brother to realize just who we are. It even works, to a degree. Alex is smart; she correctly answers all our questions. We can see her hoping it will save her. 

We are excited for Alex and her step-brother - Jonas, we finally bother to remember the name - to reach Clarissa. Finally, we can truly begin. We use Clarissa as an example of our abilities. No more games, this is real. The suicide catches their attention, as we assumed it would - death is hard to ignore, we know first hand. It was fake, of course; it would be a shame to waste such a precious resource as Clarissa for a simple show of force. But its purpose was served. 

The first display with Clarissa took much of our stored energy. We ( _ he she they we I so many all the same _ ) regroup and refocus as the four children discuss their plans, as if they have any real choice in the matter, as if their decisions could lead to different outcomes. No matter, they will soon see. We are already getting a better grasp on time. Bit by bit by bit, we are pulling ourselves through the membrane between worlds, but we still rely on Alex and her damned radio to make the full transition. Without her we achieve nothing. 

Another display with Clarissa for Alex and -  _ the girl? the boy? the step-brother? no matter, just variables _ \- this time with the aim of emotional manipulation. Letting Clarissa’s own thoughts guide what she says to Alex, and she acts perfectly. She voices her rage with abandon, blames Alex for her own brother’s death and therefore hits her at her lowest point; seems she blames herself too. Weakened in such a way, we hope Alex may be more agreeing, or at least less rational. 

They reach the Adler house. Thrice damned Maggie Adler who killed us and tried to save us and her friend who is not Alex yet is so much like her. Maggie Adler, dead now,  _ so maybe we are dead too the only one who remembered us is dead no don’t fall apart now we’ve come so far _ , and Anna Shea. Poor Anna. She is one of us now, or rather, could be. Not completely. She is not one of Us. Part of Us. She remains an outsider, unable to cling to even the comfort of our meager togetherness. She knowingly put herself at risk by trying to help us, and her imprisonment is the price she paid. But we were hurt - she promised to help us, and she didn’t. So to get even, we refused to let us into our fold. 

In the Adler house, we let Alex know about Anna and Maggie and their familiar fates ( _ not familiar yet. Will be familiar. Soon to be familiar _ ). We play another game. Our strength grows; we make puppets of all her friends, though only temporarily. Inhabiting them means separating ourselves, and we cannot afford to be deeply fragmented yet, before the proper time comes. Again, Alex answers our questions correctly as if there is a prize to be won, as if her freedom is up for bargain. We make the terms,  _ same terms, new terms, look what happened to Anna _ . 

She asks why, and we answer. We need her and her friends, can’t she see? Their bodies, living and breathing and on the right side of reality. Possession is a strong word, think of it as changing hands. Cruelty is not our purpose, survival is. And if they look similar to the outsiders involved, then so be it. They have had their time in their dimension; after what we have been through, we deserve to go home. 

Alex and her friends conjure up more grand ideas for escape. They follow plans written out by a dead woman ( _ Maggie Adler, never forgot her, could never forget her _ ) and enter the bunker. Truth be told, we resent the fallout shelter. Those on the island blessed with a shelter to save them  _ while we were put kept trapped underwater with the reactor itself told it was safe they lied they lied we died we wish we died _ . Jonas leaves Alex -  _ gone with us? No, not with us, but not with Alex either _ . 

Alex comes to us, to the Kanaloa and our cursed dimension. She is stubborn. Stupidly stubborn. But we give her a choice, with us winning in every outcome, of course. 

_ Alex _

_ Or _

_ Clarissa _

The others are a risk. Too much a risk. We just want out. We want out. We want out. Ninety-seven ( _ ninety-eight if we count Anna which we do not _ ) of us trapped here for seventy-three years and we just want to be free. One of these girls can give this to us but Alex holds the key. Alex or Clarissa. Alex. Or. Clarissa. 

She talks to us. 

Names we ( _ he she they I _ ) had forgotten we had.  _ Have?  _ Henry Griffin. Calvin Gilbert. Francis Salter.  _ If you hear your ticket called please step forward. Lucky first-second-third caller. Us? Him? Me?  _ We are Henry. I am Henry. 

_ Stop it Henry we are falling apart stop it Henry stop it Henry. _

I am Henry Griffin. I, Henry Griffin, look at the past seventy-three years in horror. I, Henry Griffin, look at the girl with the blue hair and the radio. Henry Griffin, who is me, does not want her or the red-haired girl or the step-brother or the quiet girl or the best friend to be subjected to our fate. I, Sergeant Henry Griffin, let them go. 

_ The children are gone but we are not damn it Henry damn you to Hell we were so close WE WERE SO CLOSE.  _

_ Henry falls back into our dimension and he becomes them becomes us Henry Griffin is dead long live us. We regroup and refocus we never let the ferry reach the mainland we concentrate around us we make yesterday evening this evening and the ferry is pulling up to the dock just now.  _

_ Is. _

_ Leave. _

_ Possible?  _

_ Take two is rolling, let’s find out.  _

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! any inconsistencies with the game are my fault, i haven't played it in a few months and so much happens that i'm sure i forgot things.


End file.
